


So they don’t have to

by stjarna



Series: Season 5 spec fics / coda / missing scenes [20]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5x22, B Squad, F/M, Feels, Gen, Missing Scene, Strong Fitzsimmons feels but fic focusses on B Squad, Warning: Potentially inappropriate humor as a coping mechanism, bring tissues and chocolate or ice cream, feels with hopeful end, many feels, post-MCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Missing scene 5x22. Piper volunteers to take care of Fitz’s body. Davis helps. Heavy FitzSimmons undertones  [Warning: Potentially inappropriate humor as a coping mechanism. Also: Bring tissues and chocolate or ice cream.]





	So they don’t have to

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani and @lilsciencequeen for the beta... and for continuing to be my friends despite this fic ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm sorry.

It’s surreal. Seems wrong. Doesn’t fit.

The way he lies there, on the metal floor of the Zephyr cargo bay. The way the dust clings to his hair. The way his shirt is drenched in red. The way everyone stands frozen to the spot.

The way everything seems silent and deafening at the same time.

That’s not how it’s supposed to be.

They saved the world.

And yet—

Piper flinches when she hears Simmons call his name, automatically looks up in the direction the voice came from.

Her footsteps echo on the metal floor, fast and urgent, as she calls out her husband’s name again.

She stops for a split second when she enters the cargo bay, when her eyes catch sight of Fitz, giving Mack enough of a chance to catch up with her. Then she stumbles to the ground next to his lifeless body, paying no heed to Mack, who kneels down beside her.

She says his name over and over again, breathless and panicked and pleading. Her trembling fingers touch his face as she begs him to wake up with tears in her eyes.

For as long as Piper had known them, Fitzsimmons had always valued scientific proof above all else. Now it seems that maybe for the first time in her life, Simmons refuses the facts in front of her.

She lays her ear on his chest, trying to will a heartbeat into existence. Her hands find his injury, and she presses her palms on the gaping wound to stop the bleeding that ended hours ago.

Simmons looks at her hands, shaking and red, and Piper feels like she can see the exact moment the biochemist’s brain stops fighting the truth, the exact moment her heart shatters.

Her chin begins to quiver, before her body falls forward, before her arms wrap around his body, before quiet sobs turn into a desperate scream, a last effort of denial, before a flood of tears washes over her.

Piper blinks, staring at the broken pieces of two people that seemed unbreakable.

This wasn’t how it’s supposed to be.

They saved the world.

And yet—

Piper looks at the people in the room.

It’s not right. It feels upside-down.

May isn’t supposed to have tears in her eyes. Johnson isn’t supposed to stand silent, broken and bruised. Elena isn’t supposed to look defeated. Mack’s not supposed to look small.

Simmons isn’t supposed to—

Fitz isn’t supposed to—

Her eyes land on Davis. He’s the only one looking back at her, with the same look of disbelief she knows she has herself, with the same _What now?_ expression.

They hold each other’s gaze and somehow Piper feels like they’ve become each other’s anchors while the world they'd just saved still crumbles beneath their feet.

A movement on the ground catches her attention, causing her to look back at where FitzSimmons and Mack are.

She notices that Simmons has straightened up, pressing her lips together, wiping away her tears.

It’s like a switch has been flipped, and Piper sees a glimpse of the resolute, pragmatic scientist behind those tear-filled eyes that don’t seem to dare look back at her husband.

Simmons’ hands still shake as she glances down at her bloody palms, before turning her head to focus on Mack.

When she speaks, her voice is thin and wavering. “Mack, could you—? Umm. I need to—” She takes a few shallow, panicked breaths, before clearing her throat. “Could you please carry him to the lab? I need to clean him up.”

She shuts her eyes, a tear jumping off her lashes and snaking down her cheek as she tries to suppress a pained sob.

She exhales sharply, opening her eyes, her focus still on Mack, who nods barely noticeably.

“I need to clean him up,” Simmons repeats in a whisper, her expression glazed over, like in a trance. “I need to—”

“I can do that,” Piper hears herself exclaim, nervously looking around when she sees everyone’s eyes fixed on her.

She ignores the anxious beating of her heart, focussing back on Simmons.

“I can do that,” she repeats. “Because… umm—”

Knowing that the British scientist feels a sense of obligation to fulfill the task of tending to the wounded and dead as the agency’s most qualified medic, Piper searches the room for a convincing reason why she can't this time, why she shouldn't.

She’s relieved when she finds one.

Piper gestures at Johnson. “Because Johnson needs medical attention. And… and my medical skills aren’t that good. So… so it’s better you do that. But I can… I’ll do—”

She’s relieved when Johnson speaks up, saving her from having to finish that sentence.

“Piper’s right,” Johnson says, quietly. “Got banged up pretty good. I trust you more than her to patch me up.”

Simmons’ eyes wander back and forth between Piper and Johnson, blinking rapidly, her lips pressed into a thin line. She slowly looks down at her husband, grimacing before forcing her eyes away from him.

She clears her throat, before bobbing her head. “Yes, that’s… umm… that’s probably a good idea. Thank you for offering, Agent Piper.”

Piper nods in silent agreement.

Simmons looks back at Mack. “Mack, could you—?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Mack draws in a slow breath, hesitation visible in his movements as he shifts his position towards Fitz’s lifeless body.

“Agent Mackenzie,” Davis calls out, causing everyone to look his way.

“I think maybe you should keep an eye on the mechanical crew,” Davis remarks, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Make sure they’re actually repairing the Zephyr, rather than causing more damage.” He shrugs. “I’m just the pilot. I’ll help Piper.”

Piper looks at her friend, unable to keep one corner of her mouth from quirking up microscopically.

Mack furrows his brow, contemplating Davis’ suggestion, before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Davis exhales sharply before bobbing his head once in Piper’s direction. They both make their way to where Simmons and Mack are kneeling next to Fitz.

Davis pauses, wetting his lips, before bending down and picking up the Scottish scientist.

Simmons’ face distorts as she watches her husband’s arm hang lifelessly by his side. She covers her mouth with the back of her hand as her body is shaken with more sobs. Slowly, she lets herself fall against Mack’s chest, who pulls her into his embrace, allowing her to cry as Davis and Piper take Fitz to the lab.

* * *

Davis lays Fitz down on the gurney before taking a step back, his arms aimlessly hanging by his side.

Piper watches him, clenching her jaw, noticing her heart beat in her throat.

She exhales sharply, turning around to gather supplies, and when she returns, Davis is still standing in the same spot.

Piper puts on a pair of gloves, her eyes lingering for a moment on Fitz’s face, the dried blood on his forehead, the dirt, the dust. She blinks, forcing her gaze away from the strange peacefulness that surrounds him.

It's not how it's supposed to be.

And yet it's how it is.

She clears her throat, bringing her hands up to Fitz’s top shirt button.

But her hands begin to tremble and she can't seem to get herself to touch the small round plastic disk or the blue fabric of his button-up.

Everything becomes blurry in front of her eyes, which slowly fill with tears. She notices her breathing quicken, short little panicked breaths.

“Let me help.”

Even though Davis’ voice is calm and quiet, Piper flinches, looking up in startled surprise.

Her friend looks back at her with friendly eyes, and somehow she manages a nod.

Davis reaches for Fitz’s shoes, taking them off slowly, while Piper begins unbuttoning the shirt.

They work in silence for awhile, together, no words needed to communicate.

Davis slides one arm behind Fitz’s back, pushing him up to sitting and stabilizing the body while Piper pushes the shirt off Fitz’s shoulders.

She bites her lower lip, exhaling a shaky breath when she notices the slow stiffening of Fitz’s muscles, the onset of rigor mortis.

It’s not right. It’s not how it's supposed to be.

Piper swallows, trying to loosen the tightness in her throat while Davis lays Fitz back down on the gurney.

She exhales sharply, reaching for Fitz’s belt, and together they manage to remove Fitz’s trousers.

Davis folds up the piece of clothing, placing it with the rest of Fitz’s belongings, while Piper looks at the lifeless body in front of her, clad in nothing but his boxers, his skin bruised, dirty and injured.

“Do you want me to—aehm—?”

She looks up at Davis’ interruption, noticing him pointing at Fitz’s boxers, an awkward half-smile ghosting across his lips.

Piper scoffs. “I may be gay as fuck, Davis, but if I can handle you, I can handle any dick.”

Davis raises his hands in defense. “Hey now, no need to get personal.”

Piper can’t help the single sarcastic laugh that exits her mouth. She gestures at Fitz with both hands. “We’re in the middle of undressing a superior officer, Davis. I don’t think it can get much more personal than that.”

She stares at him in silence for a moment, before her gaze wanders to the ground. “Sorry,” she whispers, apologetically. “Snarky comebacks are kinda my—”

“—coping mechanism?” Davis finishes her sentence, causing Piper to look back up.

His expression is soft, one corner of his mouth barely pulled up. “Yeah, I’m not a stranger to that myself.” He ticks his chin in Fitz’s direction. “Neither was he. Guess we had that in common.”

Piper can’t help but scoff, her lips momentarily pulling into a weak smile. “First time I met him, he asked me if I enjoyed standing in his way because he couldn’t get past me with some gigantic science contraption of his.”

Davis lets out a single laugh, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “First time _I_ met them, I had no clue which one was Fitz and which one was Simmons.” He shakes his head in amusement. “And I couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying.”

Piper snorts, trying in vain to suppress a full-on laugh attack.

“Hey,” Davis exclaims defensively, gesturing at himself. “I’m from New York, okay? Not much exposure to Scottish accents.”

Piper lifts her shoulder, unable to keep from grinning widely. “I’m half Puerto Rican, Davis, and I never had a problem understanding him.”

Davis looks back at her wide-eyed. “Well, lucky for you, linguistic genius.”

They stare at each other in silence, before bursting out in laughter.

It takes them only a moment to recover, just a moment until happiness is washed away by the somber reality lying in front of them.

Piper clears her throat, exhaling a sharp breath. “Maybe… Maybe we should just keep going and not talk so much.”

Davis nods, his expression more serious again. “Alright.”

They take off Fitz’s boxers, before beginning to wash his body, gently, as if they could break him further.

Piper wipes away the dried blood, sweat and dirt from his forehead, noticing how relaxed his expression is, how serene, how at peace.

“I was so pissed at him,” she admits, barely above a whisper, glancing at Davis, who looks back at her questioningly.

“After what happened to Prince, after what happened to you,” she continues. “I was pissed at him. Thought it was his fault. I know maybe it wasn’t fair, but… but maybe when you grieve, it’s easier when you can be pissed at someone.”

She sighs, her eyes wandering up and down Fitz’s lifeless body.

“Now, I’m pissed at myself,” she adds, quietly.

“What?” Davis furrows his brow in disbelief.

“I ratted them out,” Piper exclaims, pressing her fingers to her chest, tears in her eyes. “I betrayed them.”

“Unknowingly!” Davis replies sternly.

“They brought that damn alien artifact back to the base because of me,” Piper continues, not paying his interjection any heed. “And it exploded because Hale rigged it. And that caused the fear dimension to open. And that caused Fitz’s meltdown and—and it all led to _this_.”

She gestures at Fitz, ignoring the single tear snaking down her cheek. “It’s all my fault.”

“Hey, if you want to be pissed at someone,” Davis points at her before throwing his hand to the side, “how about the guy who flew a spaceship into the Chicago skyline and tried to rip the world apart?”

Piper presses her lips into a thin line, shutting her eyes, trying in vain to suppress a sob.

“Look, Piper,” Davis says, more quietly, “everyone can probably find something they did to contribute to this.”

“You didn’t,” Piper counters, barely above a whisper.

Davis scoffs. “Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence in my contribution to this agency.”

His remark coaxes a sad chuckle from Piper.

“Look,” Davis continues, his tone still soft and reassuring, “I was part of the team that got Robin and her mom out of hiding. He died because he helped save Polly.” Davis shrugs. “So there. My fault, too.”

One corner of Piper’s mouth quirks up microscopically, in admittance that he’d made a valid point.

“Being pissed at yourself, feeling guilty isn’t gonna help anyone,” Davis continues. “It’s not going to change anything. If you _really_ feel like you need to make amends for some kind of sin you’ve committed, then move on and do better from here on out. And you’re already doing that.”

He fans his arms across the gurney. “Right here. Right now. You volunteered for this because you knew that—”

“—they shouldn’t have to,” Piper completes his thought, her tone low. “I mean we knew him, too, but they—For them he was—” She sighs deeply. “They shouldn’t have to.”

“No, they shouldn’t.” Davis nods in agreement, before lifting his shoulders briefly. “There you go. You’re doing good, Piper.”

Another ghost of a half-smile flashes across Piper’s face.

“Thanks, Davis,” she says, quietly. “For, you know, _not_ dying.”

Davis exhales an amused puff. “Kinda grateful for that myself.”

Piper takes a deep breath, gnawing her lower lip, her gaze wandering back to Fitz, before glancing back at Davis. “We should probably keep going.”

Davis bobs his head. “Yeah, probably.”

They continue their task in silence, cleaning the broken body in front of them, until Davis suddenly scoffs, causing Piper to look up in surprise.

A mischievous grin plays on her friend’s lips. “Can you imagine how he’d react if he knew what we were doing?”

Piper snorts, involuntarily. “Probably turn fifty shades of red and curse excessively.”

Davis wrinkles his forehead, imitating an angry expression. “Bloody ‘ell, mateys, careful with that.”

Piper drops her head back, laughing out loud. “He’s Scottish, Davis, not a pirate.”

“Hey, New York, remember.” Davis gestures at himself, before waving his hand nonchalantly in Piper’s direction. “You do it better then.”

Piper raises her eyebrows, unable to suppress a smirk. She covers her mouth with her fist, clearing her throat, theatrically.

“Have you gone bonkers? Who the hell gave you permission to touch my hardware?” she says in her best Scottish accent and Fitz imitation.

Davis looks at her in discontented disbelief, his mouth gaping slightly ajar. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! How did you do that?”

Piper bursts out laughing, which seems enough to infect Davis.

Once again, it takes only a moment until the happy sound disappears, replaced with somber reality.

“We should probably try to joke less,” Piper remarks, feeling a sense of shame rush through her.

“I don’t know,” Davis shrugs. “I think we stop joking, we break apart.” He shakes his head. “We can’t do that. We need to finish this. For them.”

Piper inhales deeply. “Alright, I guess we suck it up and keep going.”

Tears fill her eyes, and she notices Davis’ growing misty as well.

He bites his lips, nodding ever so slightly, before scoffing out of the blue, the mischievous sparkle returning to his eyes. “That’s what she said.”

Piper snorts, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, before giving up and letting the wave of laughter wash over her.

Once they’ve both recovered, they keep going, joking and reminiscing about a colleague, about a friend they’d lost.

It’s not until later, when Simmons steps into the lab, her movements slow and hesitant, her eyes red and puffy, that the somber stillness returns to the room.

Simmons walks up to the gurney, blinking away tears that nonetheless don’t seem to want to fall.

A pained smile flashes across her face at the sight of her husband, clad in fresh clothes, the dried blood, the dirt, the dust wiped away, lying there as if he were sleeping.

She looks up at Piper and Davis, wetting her lips before speaking, barely above a whisper. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Piper clears her throat, crossing her arms behind her back and bobbing her head in acknowledgement, noticing how Davis does the same, both responding with a quiet “Of course.”

Simmons sighs, reaching for her husband’s face, her fingers gently combing through his hair.

The corners of her mouth quirk up barely noticeably. “Look what you did this time,” she whispers, her eyes tear-rimmed, and yet a strange, hopeful smile playing on her lips. “You really shouldn’t have—” she shakes her head, scoffing quietly, “—proven that we broke the loop by proving that we’re no longer invincible.”

She clears her throat. “And yet, you proved that we still are, didn’t you? True genius that you are.”

Piper wrinkles her forehead, confused by Simmons’ words. She glances up at Davis, who looks back at her with the same bewilderment.

“Remember how we talked about what a paradox it was?” Simmons continues, quietly, still caressing Fitz’s face. “That there’s two of you? When no energy can ever be created and none is destroyed and yet your energy appears to exist twofold?”

She grimaces, tears jumping off her lashes and snaking down her face, as her fingers trail down his arm, as she slides her palm underneath his and removes his wedding band, placing it on her own ring finger instead.

“I’ll find you,” she whispers. “I’ll find you out there in space like you found me. And I won’t give up. Just like you never did. Because we won’t let anything rip us apart, isn’t that right? Because we’re stronger than any curse.”

She cups his face, pressing her lips against his, before her body is shaken with sobs, before she wraps her arms around him, crying into his lifeless shoulder.

Piper walks around the gurney to where Simmons is hunched over her husband’s body, placing a hand reassuringly on her back.

Simmons straightens up, turning around and throwing her arms around Piper’s neck, burying her face in Piper’s shoulder.

“We’ll find him,” she sobs. “We’ll find him, won’t we?”

Piper opens her eyes, glancing at Davis while keeping Simmons in her embrace.

Davis shrugs, as confused as Piper is herself, and yet Piper can’t help but feel a strange hopefulness growing inside her.

She may not have understood what Simmons was talking about, but if she’d learned anything since working with the science duo it was that they were rarely wrong about anything.

“We’ll find him,” Simmons repeats, her voice breaking.

Piper hugs the biochemist a bit more tightly, cradling the back of her head in her palm. “Yes, we will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know many of you may headcanon that Jemma took care of Fitz once he was brought back to the Zephyr/Lighthouse, but the thought that she would have to do that broke my heart. I felt like this was not a burden she should have to take. Of course she could do it and power through and be brave, but I wanted someone to step in so she wouldn't have to, so this fic idea was born.
> 
> P.S. Davis not being able to understand Fitz and Piper teasing him for it, is a nod to Max Osinski, who adorably had the hardest time understanding a Scottish Ghost Rider cosplayer at Ultimates 2018, while Briana Venskus sat next to him, barely containing her laughter ;)


End file.
